


Another Coffee Shop AU

by Chiisanafukuro (makuro)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Idiots in Love, M/M, SHEITH - Freeform, buckets of sass, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 11:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21373378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makuro/pseuds/Chiisanafukuro
Summary: Keith runs a cafe.Shiro comes in for him to drool over.No need for changes.
Relationships: Allura/Lance (Voltron), Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 149





	Another Coffee Shop AU

**Author's Note:**

> who wanted a coffee shop AU? Me. I did.

Naturally it was raining on the incorrigible Wednesday Keith was already having, customers being several types of needy and bitchy, making him bitchy right back. He missed the university crowd, completely without complaint if the place was deemed ‘cool’ enough for them to congregate at.

The summer crowd were the town residents, and they all felt like they had some kind of say over how he ran his damn business.

“Can’t you seriously turn the music down?”

“Can’t you seriously put headphones in, Carl?” Keith snapped. “You have them, and I’ve turned it down three times already. Hell, the _bass_ is off. If you don’t want any kind of noise, write your next great novel at home.” He turned back to wiping down the bar and ignored Carl’s huffing at the other end. He complained each time he came in, and refused to believe that Keith did, in fact, turn the music down when asked. He wasn’t that much of a jackass that he’d make a regular uncomfortable. Hunk and Lance maintained that he just liked to have something to bitch about. They probably weren’t wrong, but it still drove Keith spare.

“Lance!” He shouted. “We need more silver up front!”

“Dishwasher’s not done!”

“Fuck.” Of course it wasn’t. Just like the sandwich press was acting like was going to die again, and the espresso machine was trying to burn his barista. “Wednesday, always fucking Wednesday.” He was sure that Wednesdays were cursed, ever since he bought the building and started up the cafe.

“He’s back,” Lance said, walking out with a tub full of steaming silverware. He nodded over to the far side of the cafe. Keith followed his gaze and spotted _him_.

He’d been coming in the last couple of weeks, setting himself up in a corner of the cafe, and working away on his laptop with one hand and a large coffee in front of him. The Henley he always wore—different color each time, but just as tight against his build frame—was tied up at the right shoulder. He had a deep scar over the bridge of his nose, that his glasses perched just under, and silver-white hair hung over the frames in a mismanaged way that somehow looked intentional in the way Keith could never get his unruly mop to look.

He stayed for hours, only getting a coffee refill every now and again. His time were irregular—sometimes he was here in the late morning, staying through lunch. Sometimes he came in after dinner and closed them out with a smile and a generous tip.

Keith was in love.

“You going to talk to him today?” Lance asked, rolling silverware with a practiced hand.

“Nope,” Keith said. He didn’t want to ruin the magic of a secret crush on a customer. He’d told Lance, and be laughed at for a solid fifteen minutes until Lance realized he was dead serious.

“You’re hopeless,” Lance said and reloaded the tub with the now rolled silver. “Just hopeless.

Keith snorted and pulled an espresso shot for the grizzled man at the table in the middle of the cafe who drank it and glared at everyone as he did every day. “You ask out Allura yet?”

Lance sputtered and walked away, cursing Keith in Spanish. Keith shook his head and double tapped the whiskey on the counter for Yates. He’d be up eventually to get it.

The song switched and there was an audible groan from Carl at the end of the bar. “Come _on_ Keith, no one likes this music anyway! Even Yates grumbles about it you jerk!”

Yates grunted in his seat.

“I like it.”

Keith, midway to cracking a snide comment at Carl, turned to face the source of the voice.

The Beautiful Man was looking at them both, head cocked to the side, lights reflecting attractively off his glasses. He cleared his throat. “I like the music, it’s all right. And my headphones block out songs I don’t like just fine.” He shrugged a shoulder, drawing attention to the headphones resting there. The exact same pair that Carl had plunked on his head and over one ear.

Keith smiled, the vindictive feeling spreading all the way down to his toes. “See,” he said a little manically. “_He _likes my music.”

Carl sneered at him and went back to his laptop.

There was a spare doughnut on the counter from the batch Hunk had made that morning. Keith plated it up and brought it over to the man, smiling as he did.

“On the house,” he said. The man smiled up at him and Keith smiled back before going back to the bar.

That was all the interaction that they ever had, but it was enough for him. More than enough. If it ever became more than the little thing it was, there was room for a Wednesday to fuck it up.

Red Lion had been his father’s dream. He loved baking, and the man had run on coffee alone, every type of gadget for the brew taking up all of the counter space in the house. Keith always watched him work—either on perfecting scones, or getting latte art down. It was something they shared, even as Keith dragged himself through pre-law, he knew that he could come home and have a good cup of coffee with his Pops.

After the fire, Keith’s mom had revealed that there had been a savings account for his dad to open a shop when he retired with his pension. Keith had teared up, and upon graduation, forwent all applications to law school to carry out his father’s final dream.

“He’d be so proud, Keith,” his mom said, leaning over the counter, watching him set out the bakery items for the day.

“I know mom. I think he’d really like the place,” Keith sighed. He shut the case with a wistful look. “It’s like I can _sense_ him loving the place, you know?”

“I’m right here.”

His mom closed her eyes. “I can still hear him sometimes, and I know he does.”

“I hate you both so much.”

“I’ll have a chocolate orange scone for him,” she said. “In his memory.”

“Hey!”

“He really did like those,” Keith said somberly. “If only he could taste one.”

“You’re really doing this. You’re really denying me a scone.”

“You farted in the car and rolled up the windows you jackass,” Krolia said and toed Tex’s wheelchair.

He wheeled it back up to the counter and glared at them both. “I have the worst family in the world.”

“Oh hush,” Krolia took the scone from Keith and handed it to Tex. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m being dramatic? Me? Right.” Tex rolled his eyes and bit into the scone. “Oh my god these are good.”

“You think?” Keith leaned over the counter, grinning. He hated that a fire had taken his dad’s use of his legs, but it had given him and his family this new enterprise. He’d always be grateful for that.

“Yeah. Really good. Hunk make this?” His dad asked around a mouthful.

Keith squawked. “No! I made them!”

“Oh! Damn son, you did good this time.” He crammed another mouthful in.

Krolia rolled her eyes. “Well, I need to get back to the practice, have fun you two. Don’t kill each other before I can come to pick you up, Tex.”

“Wouldn’t think of it darlin’,” he drawled, pushing his face up for a crumby kiss. It was a testament to Krolia’s unwavering love that she allowed it.

Keith walked around the other side of the counter and wheeled his dad to his spot nearby, close enough to heckle, but far enough away to stay clear of the action during busy hours. He unpacked his crossword puzzles and mystery novels with frightening efficiency.

Keith went back to the counter with a smile on his face, pulling a shot of espresso for his dad’s usual.

“Um?”

Keith looked up and nearly dropped the whiskey bottle—the beautiful man was here. “Oh, sorry I didn’t see you come in. What can I start for you?”

The man smiled shyly. “I’ve been here, but I was waiting for your family. I-I didn’t want to interrupt, or something but I did, I mean I didn’t mean to overhear, but uh.” He rubbed the back of his neck and blushed.“Could I get one of those scones?”

_You could get your dick sucked six ways to Sunday_, Keith thought. “Sure thing,” Keith said, pulling another one out and plating it. “You want your usual too?”

“Oh, uh, y-yes, thanks.” An attractive blush bloomed on the man’s face. “I didn’t realize I’d become that much of a regular.”

Keith smiled, pouring a black coffee out for him. “It’s not a hard order,” he said smiling. “Dark roast black coffee, mug for refills.”

“Ah, yeah, that’s true,” he said. “Thank you. I’ll be back up later, well, you know.” He gestured to the coffee mug, blushed harder, and scurried off with it.

In his head Keith had sixty-two of the man’s babies and they grew into happy old age together on a large front porch. He almost opened his mouth to ask for the man’s name, finally, but resisted. The longer he could pretend he and the man were perfect soulmates the better.

“He’s a looker.”

Keith shouted and nearly dropped the mug he was holding. “Oh my god, stay at your table you eavesdropping gremlin.”

“Harsh,” his dad said. “Very harsh, raised you better than that.”

“You did not,” Keith grumbled. “And behave, please, I don’t want to scare him off.”

Tex snorted. “I don’t think you could, kid. He’s got it just as bad.”

Keith ignored his dad and turned back to organizing the mugs for customers staying the in shop. It wasn’t like he was oblivious to the way the man reacted around him, quite the opposite. But getting to know those looks, the shy sweet glances, only led to one place. Keith had no desire to return to there so soon.

“He comes in a lot,” Tex said, clearly ignoring his son’s wish for peace.

“We’ve had this conversation.” Keith said. “And I’ve had it with mom, and Lance, and Hunk, _and _Pidge. I’m not having it again. I like the way things are right now. There’s no mess, there’s no broken heart, there’s nothing at stake other than some daydreams.”

Tex sighed. “You can’t carry that with you forever, Keith.”

“Watch me,” Keith snarled. He stopped, took a short breath and turned fully to his father. “Sorry. It’s still raw, and I’m not ready to try again yet.”

Tex watched him for a long moment. “Better,” he said. “You’re getting better at that. But you’re going to have to let people in again at some point, Keith.”

Keith waved him off and returned to the mugs.

The thing was that the last relationship had ended with a lot of really pointed jabs and some incredibly harsh words that still stung and riled Keith into a fighting frenzy when he thought about it. And the man with the pretty white hair and lovely grey eyes didn’t need to have anything like that attached to him ever. So it was easier this way. Keith kept his distance, and got to keep his little fantasy world where they get married in the early fall and take a honeymoon to a place where there’s already snow on the ground so they have an excuse to stay in the cabin all day, warm, and cozy, lazily fucking in front of the—

“Keith!”

He jumped and whirled on Lance. “What!”

“Dude, the _sink.” _Lance nodded at Keith’s hands, which were holding an overflowing jug of water at this point.

“Shit.” Keith turned the water off and shook what he could off of the jug. “Fucking hate Wednesday.”

“It’s Tuesday man,” Lance said.

Keith pushed past him. “Don’t you have a clinic to get to? Some hamster to save?”

“No,” Lance said. “I have a date.” He stuck his tongue out at Keith.

“Yeah right. With who?”

“A white haired beauty,” Lance sighed.

“_What_.” Panic welled in Keith’s chest, tightness restricting in it restricting his entire focus on Lance and his imminent demise.

Lance guffawed, loud and obnoxious. “Oh-oh my god, your _face_!” He doubled over, wheezing into his laugher. “Oh my god you dramatic, emo queen! _Allura_, I have a date with _Allura_. My _girlfriend_.”

Keith threw a coffee filter at him. “I still don’t know how you convinced her to go out with you.”

“Shove it, Kogane.” Lance chucked the filter back at him.

An hour and several other creative projectile coffee filters later, Allura walked in to pick up Lance.She was bright in her flowing white dress and and tan cardigan over to keep out the fall chill creeping in. She waved at them both and was nearly to the counter when she was stopped.

“Allura?”

She turned. So did Keith.

The man was standing up, wide smile on his face. “Allura!”

“Oh my god, _Shiro_!” She swerved from the counter and was swept up in a fierce hug. “I haven’t seen you in so long! Why didn’t you tell me you were back in town!”

“It was really recent,” he said. “I got a job at the university working for the veteran’s office. I’m working on finally finishing my damn bachelors while I’m there too. I thought you were in England?”

“Oh Shiro’s that’s wonderful! And no, I came back a year or so ago. I’m working with my father’s firm but it’s been good to be back here. And now you’re home too! We have to get dinner soon. Oh!” She took his arm and pulled him up to the counter. “This is my boyfriend, Lance. And I’m sure you know Keith at this point.” She smiled happily at both of them. “This is my friend Takashi Shirogane, we went to high school together!”

Keith could feel the entire floor crumbling beneath him.

“You’re _that _Shiro? Oh my god, babe he’s been coming here for two months!” Lance reached over the counter to shake Shiro’s hand. “Damn man, nice to finally meet you. Like for real, not just hand you a refill.”

“Good to formally meet you too!” Shiro said. “They’ve been taking really good care of me here.” He said it to Allura, but his gaze stayed on Keith while he said it.

Keith sputtered inelegantly.

“Don’t mind him, I think he just needs to reboot,” Lance said. “We’re about to go grab dinner at Mario’s, you want to come Shiro? I’m sure you guys need to do some catching up!”

“Oh no I wouldn’t want to—“

“Oh Shiro you must! Come on, grab your things. My treat!”

Keith watched, bewildered and shattered at the trio walked out of the cafe.

Takashi. Shirogane.

Goddamnit.

Names were dangerous. Names made it easy to take fantasies from little pastel colored dreams into real things with names, and pets names, and last name changes and _damn Lance_.

Keith hip checked him on his way to deliver Carl his sandwich.

“What was that for?” Lance balked.

“You know what,” Keith growled. Everything about every interaction with the man—_Shiro_—was extra ruined now. He was calling Keith by his name, starting longer boughts of small talk. Asking how things were going when he was getting his refills.

It helped not at all that Keith was a troglodyte with the social skills of a Komodo dragon. Shiro would try and chat with him—_chat him up_, Hunk kept saying—and Keith would shut him down bluntly or stutter so badly that he sounded like a terrified three year old.

“It’s ruined,” he muttered. “Totally fucking ruined.”

“So dramatic,” Lance said. “He’s still head over heels for your sorry ass, I hope you realize how sad that is.”

Carl took his sandwich with a snort. “He’s right. You aren’t a catch.”

“Fuck off Carl. You too, Lance!”

Keith Shirogane. It sounded very, very nice in his head, and he hated it.

Wednesday was out to get him again.

It was raining—no it was disastering. Sheets of autumn-chilled rain slammed down outside the shop, illuminated by lightning with a soundtrack of wicked wind. The fact that the power was still on was nothing short of a miracle.

Hunk and Keith had long since given up on keeping the floor any semblance of dry and just put up a wet floor sign, coming out only when it got truly scary looking. The cafe was a little crowded, people escaping the storm inside with something warm.

Keith slipped into the back to restock napkins and came back out to Hunk’s very nervous face. “What is it?” He asked.

“Look only if you think you won’t die on the spot,” Hunk said carefully.

Keith rolled his eyes and looked around Hunk to the front of the shop.

Shiro was there, drenched. His shirt was utterly soaked, the material clinging to every line of muscle Keith had imagined but never dared to dream existed. He had proof now, glorious, wet, sharply outline proof.

“I told you not to look. Now you’re whimpering, which is very weird Keith. Like, really weird.”

Keith cleared his throat. “I don’t whimper.”

“Uh, you just did? Loudly. A lot.” Hunk moved to block his view. “I told you not to look.”

“I’m totally fine,” Keith said.

“Dude your ears are red.”

“I’m FINE!” Keith was not proud of how high his voice got. He pushed around Hunk and choked on his own spit.

Shiro was at the counter, sinfully presented as a wet demi-god here to lure mortal men to their doom. He smiled, no, _smirked_. “Little wet out there.”

“Mrrphhmm,” Keith said.

“Just a coffee for now,” Shiro continued, like Keith wasn’t actively breaking down in front of him.

Maybe he knew.

Maybe he _was_ a demi-god sent here to destroy mortal men.

“Coffee.” Keith said.

Shiro raised an eyebrow. He didn’t have his glasses on. This made everything better and worse all at once. “Yes?”

Keith nodded jerkily and got him a very large mug of coffee and retreated into the back kitchen.

Fucking Wednesdays.

One didn’t always take a shit at work, but sometimes needs a must. 

Keith walked out of the employee bathroom, fan flicked on and air freshener wafting out behind him. Damn his slowly growing lactose intolerance. 

Hunk had taken the counter over while he ‘took a quick break’ and looked at Keith with great trepidation when he stepped out. 

“What?” Keith asked. 

Hunk couldn’t make eye contact. “I didn’t see it happen, Keith, I just looked up and he was there. I swear I would have stopped it if I could have.” 

Keith pushed past him and looked out at his cafe, expecting it to be a disaster zone or filled with teenagers. 

It was worse than all of that. 

Shiro was sitting with his father. 

Shiro was talking with his father. 

Keith debated if jumped over the counter and dragging Shiro back to his spot was too dramatic. Probably, that meant option two. 

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Hunk threw out his arms and grabbed Keith by the shoulders. “What are you gonna do man?” 

“Patricide by coffee stirer.” 

“Can you do that?” 

Keith frowned at Hunk. “You saying I can’t ?” 

“Er, no. But your mother wouldn’t like it.” 

That was objectively true. Krolia could also kill Keith with less than a coffee stirer, and with surely more creative means than her bare hands. And there was no doubt that if he killed his father, his mother would in turn murder him. 

“Fuck.” Keith stepped back, defeated. “How long?” 

“Ten minutes. When Shiro came up for a refill he flagged him while my back was turned with the mug. I’ve been trying to listen, I don’t think you’ve come up—“ 

“Keith!” 

Keith groaned and closed his eyes. 

“Keith c’mere!” 

He shot a glare at Hunk that hopefully relayed the message ‘this is your fault and you _will_ pay for it’ and walked to the table. “Hey dad. Shiro.” 

“Did you know,” his dad started. “That Shiro here is a certified fighter pilot?” 

Keith opened his mouth and promptly realized saying yes meant he admitted to eavesdropping, but saying no was dishonest and he _hated_ lying. He was also terrible at it. 

His father saved him be rambling on. “I was just telling him that was your dream when you were little! Wanting to fly planes and burst up into space. He loved Star Trek as a kid.” 

“Dad!” 

“Well you did,” he dad said. 

Shiro chuckled. It was a very, very nice sound. “I did too. Still do. Who’s you favorite captain?” 

“Piccard,” Keith said without thought. It wasn’t wrong, Jean Luc did things to anyone who looked at that sexy shiny head, but he wasn’t supposed to give that information up. 

“I loved Riker, he was just so…” Shiro wiggled his eyebrows and cleared his throat, “you _know_.” 

“I liked Jean Luc’s white hair.” Why, why was his mouth betraying him like this. It never did this, it never opened without any explicit permission from his antisocial brain. This was a coup of unprecedented level and Keith needed to walk himself into traffic immediately. 

Shiro smiled, this time shy, a blush crawling up his neck. “Good to know.” 

Words again came out of Keith’s mouth but he didn’t register any of them, just that they got him away from a still blushing Shiro and his smirking, satisfied father. 

Shiro started asking him questions after that. 

Keith was caught off guard by blunt questions, and Shiro wielded that knowledge wickedly. Small talk had been shot dead in the river, now Shiro walked in and didn’t even order his coffee just— 

“Favorite comic book character?” 

“Stuffed animal you loved—not animal, but the stuffed animal. Follow-up, is it the same animal?”

“Favorite coffee roast?”

“What weather to you like to sleep in? I like rain like today.” 

“Why’d you open the shop?”

“Dad got hurt in a fire and he always wanted to open one, so I did for him. Or us, really. I just wanted to.” He ignored Shiro’s outstretched hand with a credit card in it and got him his mug. “Anything else on interrogate Keith today?” 

“No,” Shiro chirped. “But you can always ask back, you know.” He winked, _winked_, and went to his table. 

Keith made all of the latte art after that a screaming panda. It looked a little bit like that Netflix Hello Kitty character, the angry office lady. He felt a deep kinship with her at the moment. 

“You could just talk to him,” Lance said one day after Shiro left. “Like, you know, a human? Do yo know how to do that? I can teach you if you need me to teach you.” 

“Shut up and wipe down the espresso machine.” Maybe he did need lessons in human. It was stupidly obvious now that Shiro was into him, too, and Keith was well beyond a simple, easy crush. He was besotted. Twitterpated. Utterly fucked. 

Shiro came in the next day, grin on his faces, glasses perched on his nose instead of in their case, and asked, “what’s your favorite warm beverage other than coffee?” 

“Chai tea, not a latte. Just good masala chai.” He grabbed the ugliest mug they owned. “Favorite color?” 

Shiro stopped halfway to getting his wallet out. “Huh?”

Keith cleared his throat and took the plunge. “What’s your favorite color?” 

They moved on to full conversations.

Shiro would sit at the three seater bar at the far end of the counter and chat with Keith in between customers. Keith chatted back.

The first time it happened it was stilted, awkward in a way that left them both blushing like teenagers and Lance rolling his eyes loudly at them. It was easier after that. Shiro talked to Lance and Hunk too. Pidge started crowding in next to him when they came in, shouting at length about their classes and idiotic research project partners.

Shiro was actually in one of the classes they TA’ed for, so they started helping him brush up on everything he forget in between Air Force stints and college classes where he could. Keith found himself just watching them one day, how Shiro talked and teased with Pidge as they went over a concept with him. He was, despite all of the bitterness and nihilism that Keith wanted to hold on to, a good man.

A very good man was he was slowly falling for.

Pidge looked up and grinned at Keith while Shiro worked something out in his notebook. Keith ignored the look, he was getting it all too often lately.

The chime went off over the door and his attention was stolen by the customer.

“How can I—_oh_.”

Everything warm and bubbling in his chest was killed by the man walking into the cafe. Shiro, warm, bright Shiro at the end of the counter was gone, replaced by cold wind and and a shattered heart.

“Keith,” Regris said. He looked good, sharp in his suit with his hair slicked back. His shit eating grin was in place, like it always was. He pulled a sleek leather wallet out. “How are you?”

Keith looked down and at the iPad till, pulling up the order screen. “What can I get for you?”

Regris slithered over the counter, leaning right up into Ketih’s space. “Aw, c’mon Keith. Can’t we at least be friends?” He managed to look at least a little contrite. “You did well, I didn’t think you would but you proved me wrong, you know. The place is great.”

“Mm,” Keith tried not to pull back and just _punch _the jackass. “What can I get for you?”

“Dinner.”

Keith felt his eyes go wide, and he nearly took the bait, but was saved by hearing Shiro whisper to Pidge, his voice drawing Keith back. “We’ve got paninis and a soup of the day if you’d like one. There are a few pre-made sandwiches left too if you want something easy to go—“

“With me, you idiot. I want dinner together. Let’s put this behind us, huh?” He reached over and put a hand on Keith’s arm. “I miss you.”

He stared at the hand for half a second before violently throwing it off. He backed up so hard he crashed into the counter and knocked into some of the equipment there. “Get the fuck out,” he growled.

“Keith. Come on—“

“Out!” Keith bellowed.

Regris had the audacity to actually look hurt for a second. It was over quickly. “Giving everything up just because your dad got crippled. Fucking coward,” he sneered. Regris backed up and out of the shop, glaring Keith down the whole way. “We could have been great Kogane!”

The door chime went off again behind Regris and Keith slumped down against the counter.

Fuck that guy.

Pidge left, as did most of the few patrons that had been there for the outburst. Keith had run away to the backroom and let Lance take over until his shift was over. His insides were twisted up like a ball of snakes.

A shadow fell over the counter, and then a muscled arm slid into view. Shiro smelled like cologne and coffee, close as he was to Keith, it was obvious without Keith being creepy about it. Shiro ducked his head and tried to get Keith’s gaze to go to him, but Keith watched Shiro’s hand instead, his own so close. He pressed his fingertips on the counter near Shiro’s.

Shiro stayed still, easy, patient.

“Who was he?”

Keith traced lazy circles into the countertop, watching his finger dip closer and closer to Shiro’s hand like it wasn’t attached to his own body and will. “Regris,” he said. “He was in pre-law with me, we hit it off really quickly. We wanted to build a practice together and… god just a bunch of stupid bullshit. But we were in love, you know?”

“I do,” Shiro said. He tapped his fingers closer to Keith’s circling one.

“When dad got hurt, and I said I was going to open this place up, Regris lost it. He said I was being stupid and giving up everything we’d worked for.” Keith laughed ruefully. “It’s not like he was wrong. But seeing dad pine for something like this, and his work take from him for years, I realized that I wanted to try my hand at that far-off dream _right_ now, not some far-off time I might not reach.

“So I differed Law School. If I could make it work, I was going to. If not, I still had my LSAT scores. But I was going to try. Regris thought I was giving up on us, just throwing everything away because I didn’t think I could make it as a lawyer.” Keith snorted. “You’ve seen my mom. If any kid of hers isn’t raised to be a lawyer by proxy then she didn’t actually raise them. It didn’t matter though, he said a bunch of shitty things, let me know that he wasn’t going to stand there and watch me throw my life away, at least that’s how he put it. I told him I had to do this, to give it a shot—why not make the later dream _now_, you know?”

Shiro hummed. He let his fingers dodge around Keith’s in an almost dance. “That still wasn’t enough of a reason, was it?”

“No,” Keith said. He jumped his finger over Shiro’s, egging on the strange little game.

“My ex was like that,” Shiro said. “I was a pilot in the Air Force. He moved to recruiting before I did. I had the option with him, start training recruits, but when another tour came up I went. He as furious about it, wanted me grounded like him so we could start our lives. But I wanted one last round up in the sky with those planes.” He looked at his shoulder. “Didn’t end great, but I don’t regret it. He tried to get back together after I was grounded and honorably discharged, but I couldn’t get him telling me he ‘wouldn’t wait for me to live out my hero-fantasy again’ out of my head.”

Shiro took a breath. “I don’t blame him, it’s a lot to put someone through. But the way he said it… like he was entitled to my entire life because we loved each other. It didn’t feel right. I was still my own person, I still had my ambitions, and giving them up entirely or nothing wasn’t a choice for me really.” He stilled his fingers, letting Keith catch them with the tips of his own.

“It wouldn’t have been for me either,” Keith whispered.

The world held its breath for them as Shiro slowly turned his hand over and let it be captured by Keith’s. His hand was big and warm, soft in a way Keith didn’t think it would be. He knew his was rough from work, no matter how much lotion from Lance he used. His fingers were thinner, longer in a way, like his hand was skinny in a big jock one. It wasn’t exactly wrong assessment.

“I wasn’t sure if could move back here and be okay again,” Shiro admittedly softly. His fingers pressed into the back of Keith’s hand. “But I’m glad I did.”

Keith squeezed back. “Me too, Shiro.”

“This is getting out of hand.”

Keith looked up from stirring the chili Hunk had made for the day. “What is? The spice level?”

Lance smacked his arm. “No you twit, you and your grey giant. You’ve gone from painfully pining to absolutely gut rotting sweet. It’s nauseating. Just bone already.”

Keith closed the lid to the soup pot. “Leave it Lance, I like it how it is. We don’t need to move any faster or slower than we are.”

“You couldn’t move slower! You’re barely moving! Millimeters, you’re crawling at millimeters an hour Keith,” Lance lamented. “I’m going to be ninety before you give me grand babies!”

“None of that is even remotely plausible,” Keith said.

From the end of the counter Pidge piped up. “He’s right, you know, you two should just make moves already. On each other. Away from here because we’re getting really tired of watching the dance man.”

“You—“ Keith jabbed a finger into their face, “—are not allowed to _speak _on the matter!” 

Last week it had been revealed that Pidge’s older brother, Matt, was also friends with Shiro and had been for years. Pidge wasn’t just tutoring Shiro because they were cool with him, they _knew _him.

“You’re both my friends I damn well can speak on it you goth-gremlin!” Pidge shouted. “I speak truth!” They flung their hands up and pushed their point figners agains each other crudely. “TOUCH THE PEENS!”

“Pidge!”

“They’re right, you know.” He’d forgotten his mother had come in and had been witness to all of this while she waited for Hunk to come out with fresh doughnuts for her to take to the firm.

Keith glared over the espresso machine. “Not you too, mom.”

“Me too, little star. You should bite the bullet and go out, I think it’ll be good for both of you. It’s clear you want to.” She gave him the _Mom Look_ and he ignored it.

He and Shiro were just fine they way they were.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go out with Shiro or see where things went, but he had no urgency to either. It felt like things were moving the way he wanted them to, and this pace was just fine. He was busy running a business, Shiro was gearing up to finish his first semester back at school. They were busy, and saw each other in the context of Shiro coming for caffeine and studying. Keith would bring him food, too. Plates of sandwiches and chips, or bowl of soup and some good bread that hadn’t turned into sandwiches. Carl once asked for the dinner service after Keith and left a frazzled Shiro a large slice of cake. Keith had thrown bread crumbs for the French onion soup in his face.

Their thing was nice, easy, and smooth sailing. Keith would wait, he could wait, and it would be okay.

“Stop fretting,” Krolia said, patting his shoulder. “Everything is prefect, Keith.”

“No but the tinsel—“

“Keith,” she pulled him away from the decorations. “It’s perfect. It’s a family and friends holiday party, not a reception for the Queen. Come on Keith, come and enjoy.”

He let himself be pulled away from his masterwork of decorating. The cafe was done up like a Christmas miracle for their holiday party, the festive season of harvest and warmth and family exploding over the space, even more now that the party was tonight.

It had been Keith’s idea, to Lance’s horror, to have the annual family party here. Despite knowing each other for years, Lance was still shocked when Keith went bananas over the holidays.

It was his favorite stretch of the year, the corporate bids for Holiday cash felt grounded in something at least, and the cold outside was offset by cozy insides, and families grew close for the time they’d spend together and on one another. That was really the reason he’d gone all out, Keith’s family was the one thing he’d put more effort into than his own life, and this was his show of that to them.

The fact that Shiro had promised he’d come after an appointment he had was just a happenstance. There was no extra, over the top decorating in a peacock like display of prowess no matter what Lance said.

Slowly the cafe filled with familiar faces and vast amounts of rich food. Keith found himself squashed between Hunk and Allura on one of the bench seats, tall glass of mulled mead—home brewed by Hunk—in front of him. His plate had several slow cooked meats stacked on it, butter biscuit, and a crapload of decadent dips and vessels for said dips. One of them was a baked cheese dip that Lance had made and was sure to cement his burgeoning lactose intolerance. Keith didn’t care. He was happy and full, surrounding by the sound of the people he loved being happy too. Except one.

He was nudged in the ribs.

“He’ll be here,” Allura said. “Just relax.”

The party swung on. Night fell and continued to fall. People left in sleepy, satisfied waves, hugging Keith and telling him what a wonderful time they all had.

It was almost ten at night, and it was just Lance and Allura left.

“You sure you don’t want any help cleaning up?” Lance asked.

Keith shook his head, clinging to the broom in his hands. “No, I’ll be all right. Just get home safe you two.”

“Keith…” Allura reached out and pulled him into a hug. “I’m sure there’s a reason. Shiro wouldn’t just not show, I promise.”

“Right,” he said. It felt hollow. He felt stupid—how could he think that over coffee and delivered sandwiches they’d grown that close? Of course Shiro didn’t come.

Allura kissed his cheek and left, Lance sending him on last sympathetic glance before disappearing into the slowly falling snow after her.

Keith sighed and turned to the wreckage of the cafe. They’d have to open at five still, the place spotless for the morning rush. He put the broom down and started to sweep, ignoring the ache in his heart. Or trying to, at least.

The door chime clinked behind him. “We’re closed,” he said with more bite than perhaps was necessary, but he wasn’t in the mood for a curious customer who couldn’t read the ‘closed for a private event’ sign.

“I take it I missed the party.”

He nearly dropped the broom. He took a minute to compose himself before slowly turning to Shiro, standing there haloed in streetlight, snow in his hair.

“Most of it, yeah,” Keith said. “Are you okay?”

Shiro smiled and shrugged, hands up in the air. “Pretty okay.” His grin was sly, giddy, like a kid who got away with sneaking candy out of his mom’s closet.

“Okay, then why were you…” Keith’s brain caught up with the last five seconds. Shiro had held up his hands. _Hands. _

“Shiro!” He did drop the broom this time, rushing forward to inspect the new limb.

Shiro laughed, thrusting the sleek metal prosthetic out for Keith to inspect. It was shining sliver highlighted with black components, like the tips of his fingers and inner elbow. There was a faint humming and whirring sound as he moved it, and it gleamed where the light caught it.

Keith traced his fingers over Shiro’s palm. “Can you feel?”

“A bit,” Shiro said quietly. “There’s pressure, and a little bit of sensation. I can tell that you’re touching me. There’s more sensory receptors in the fingers, for heat and cold so I don’t hurt myself.” He flexed his fingers for Keith. “I’m sorry it took longer than I thought it would. They had to test a bunch of things to make sure everything was hooked up right.”

“I bet,” Keith whispered. “Shiro this is amazing.”

“Yeah,” Shiro said. His voice shook, nervous for some reason Keith couldn’t fathom. “I was waiting for the appointment so I could do this.”

Keith looked up to asked him what ‘this’ was, but Shiro was already moving, hangs cupping Keith’s face and tilting it up to meet Shiro’s. It still didn’t click was what happening until Shiro’s lips brushed his softly, a brief kiss, searching.

Keith caught up quickly, grasping Shiro’s arms and hauling him closer. The kiss felt like a million suns finally lighting up his world. It felt right, all the way down his spine to his toes. Shiro dropped the new arm to circle it around Keith’s waist, pulling him close. Keith wrapped his arms around Shiro’s shoulder and surged to his tiptoes so he could better lick into Shiro’s mouth.

Shiro pulled back for air some time later. “So, will you go out with m—“

“Oh _shut up_, yes you idiot,” Keith breathed. He kissed Shiro again, if only to wipe that smirk off of his face.

Keith deemed it acceptable to leave the cafe in disarray and clean it up later. Especially since he lived around the corner and had a rather large bed available for use. Shiro let him lock up, unable to keep his new hand off Keith for five seconds, and promptly scooped Keith up and carried him off to his apartment. Keith tried to get put down, squirming the whole way. Shiro wouldn’t have it—he had two good arms for the first time in two years and he was going to put them to use, damnit.

A hilarious and precarious amount time later, Keith was deposited into his bed by those arms. Framed by them against soft sheets. Fell apart in them as he let Shiro inside. Held in them while they curled close in the afterglow.

“I think I’m falling in love with you.” Shiro whispered it like a secret. “I think it might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Me too,” Keith said.

They walked in together the next morning, hand in hand to open up the cafe. Keith told Shiro he didn’t have to come, but he insisted. They cleaned up together, sharing quick kisses while Shiro explained the complicated mechanics of his arm. They had to stop for the morning rush, but Shiro stayed through, watching Keith with a dopey smile the whole time. 

“Large coffee, room for cream, and leave the lovestruck hearts off, please.”

“Fuck you too Carl,” Keith said. “What hearts?”

“You did it with the stacked nerd,” Carl said. “It’s all over you both and the time of day he’s here. It’s lovey-dovey and gross. Please return to normal grinch status tomorrow or I may have to barf on the counter like a disgruntled cat.”

Keith passed him his coffee. “You act like you don’t do that already.”

Carl made to grab the cup, but their combine pressure on it popped the lid and spilled coffee all over the counter. Keith barely even flinched as Carl howled—it was Wednesday after all.

He caught sight of Shiro giggling while Carl had a meltdown. Maybe Wednesdays wouldn’t be completely intolerable now.


End file.
